April is Autism Acceptance Month. This may not be on your calendar, but it’s especially important in the literary community. The world didn’t see an autistic author for a long time; not because they didn’t exist, but because they lived in a world that believed they couldn’t.
Autism acceptance is at an all time high, but there is still so much damage that has been done by decades of misinformation. The underdiagnosis, misdiagnosis, and stigmatization of autism makes it truly impossible to understand how many authors are on the spectrum. We need autistic representation in all fields, but autism has been condemned by society for as long as we’ve had a name for it; even those who are able to receive a diagnosis may choose not to share it publicly, knowing it can come with a cost.
As an autistic writer and editor, I have been confronted with the reality that our current literary spaces value the narratives of allistic writers over their autistic peers, forcing us to conform to literary standards set by a predominantly allistic community. Despite the barriers that had been enforced against authentic autistic voices, the growing number of acclaimed and openly autistic writers have been revolutionizing narrative and storytelling across genres. They are restructuring the world of literature.
These seven novels celebrate authentic autistic storytellers and their divergence from allistic archetypes:
A Room Called Earth by Madeleine Ryan
With the entire novel taking place within twenty-four hours, A Room Called Earth follows an unnamed autistic woman before, during, and after a party. Throughout the novel, the protagonist reckons with the communication barrier between herself and the non-autistic people she interacts with. That is until she is able to finally connect with a person and feel understood by someone else. What’s especially fascinating about Ryan’s debut novel is her ability to capture the imperfect character. Her character contradicts herself, passes judgement easily, and is a bit out of touch at times. But in Ryan’s hands, the protagonist feels deeply human—a fully fleshed-out autistic woman who, despite her flaws, breaks free from the stereotypes that have been thrust upon autistic people. She is multi-dimensional, created with the purpose of forcing the reader to reconsider the way they think about the world.
Exciting Times by Naoise Dolan
An effortlessly witty novel exploring a queer love triangle set in Hong Kong, this novel follows Ava, a cynical TEFL teacher originally from Ireland, and her messy relationships with Julian, a successful and emotionally unavailable banker, and Edith, a kind lawyer born in Hong Kong. Exciting Times dives into the intricacies of unhealthy relationships and issues of class disparity with cutting and calculated prose. Divided into three parts, the narrative transforms and ultimately rejects both the cliches associated with love triangles in media and its own earlier cynicism, making for an interesting read.
An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon
Rivers Solomon has recently taken the literary scene by storm with their most recent novel, Model Home, but it was An Unkindness of Ghosts that first caught my attention. This was the first novel I’d ever read that accurately portrayed both a neurodivergent and gender nonconforming protagonist.
Set in a science fiction version of the Antebellum period, the novel takes place on a plantation on a ship among the stars. Following Aster, a neurodiverse, gender nonconforming, and biracial healer, we get a look inside a young person’s struggle for liberation amidst systemic violence and oppression. Solomon uses this time and space not to rehash history, but to slash away at centuries-long stereotypes.
Despite its genuinely painful plot, Solomon’s poetic prose spurs some sincere moments of beauty, specifically in their descriptions of Aster’s unrelenting kindness and fierce love.
The Life Impossible by Matt Haig
Matt Haig’s most recent novel is what one may call a “feel good” philosophical work, but don’t let that categorization fool you; it is far from the dull theory taught in Philosophy 101. Much like his New York Times Bestseller, The Midnight Library, Haig interweaves philosophical quandaries throughout the book, but this time, it’s an active contemplation on grief. The narrative follows a middle aged woman named Christina who’s recently been widowed and has long been burdened by guilt after the death of her child. She tries to avoid grief around every corner, until a friend mysteriously dies and leaves Christina her house in her will.
The healing process isn’t linear, an idea that Haig fully dissects within the novel. While the beginning of The Life Impossible can neatly be defined as literary fiction, there is a drastic shift in tone and genre near the midway point, when the cause of the friend’s death begins to pose imminent danger to the island. By turning grief and loss into something magical and surreal, Haig creates an environment in which we can find purpose in our pain and make sense of the senseless.
A Kind of Spark by Elle McNicoll
Young autistic people have a tendency to resonate with the outcasts of society, and Addie, the protagonist of A Kind of Spark, is no exception. As a young girl living in Scotland, she discovers that her hometown was once the site of a witch trial. And just like that, she’s on a mission to preserve and honor these women’s memories.
This touching coming-of-age is not just about the witch trials, at least as it pertains to their memorialization. Addie’s strong sense of justice is rooted in her deep identification with the condemned women. She feels misunderstood by the people in her community, just as the witches had been. A Kind of Spark takes misconceptions and creates an accessible narrative for education, a task that is no small feat. Although this novel may be written for a younger audience, its unique and charming plotline make it enjoyable for all ages.
The Death of Jane Lawrence by Caitlin Starling
I’ve recently come across the work of Caitlin Starling and I immediately fell in love with her prose style. Her writing is precise, but still incredibly eloquent and flowing despite the more gruesome themes of the novel. This dichotomy works perfectly for The Death of Jane Lawrence; although it’s a historical horror, it’s also a romance. Following the story of Jane Lawrence, this riveting novel takes place in a fictional post-war Britain. Jane, orphaned by the recent war, looks for marriage for no other reason other than housing, which leads her to Doctor Augustine Lawrence. He agrees to marry her if she agrees to follow his rule; she cannot visit Lindridge Hall after dark. She agrees and follows this rule until unforeseen circumstances show her the real terror that lies within.
Starling’s novel fits perfectly into the modern Gothic category, hitting most, if not all, the key markers of the genre. It has everything from a Gothic novel you could ever want: hauntings, a deteriorating manor that the protagonist is forbidden from entering, a marriage of convenience, and a possible murder. But readers be warned; modern Gothic, specifically Starling’s portfolio, is quite gory. This is not your grandparents’ Gothic novel.
All the Little Bird-Hearts by Viktoria Lloyd-Barlow
All the Little Bird-Hearts focuses on the abusive relationships and ableism that autistic people face in a society that isn’t built for them. This devastating novel follows Sunday, an autistic single mother in the wake of a friend’s betrayal. Despite its difficult themes, it makes an excellent read for allistic readers trying to learn more about living as an autistic person in an allistic society. Lloyd-Barlow gives readers full access to the inner workings of Sunday’s thoughts. The close focus on introspection makes for an accurate, clear representation of autism in women, and creates a narrative in which readers, whether autistic or allistic, can identify with Sunday as they watch her character unravel throughout the novel—all of her trauma, her scars, her relationships. Sunday has to contend for her daughter’s attention while her friend offers a more glamorous and neurotypical lifestyle, leaving us to reckon with the reality of ableism being perpetuated by everyone, even the people we love and trust the most.
